And Then There's That Mystery Meat...

There it was. Lurking. You know, that stuff that lives in the bottom shelf of your refrigerator. Behind the week-old leftovers and the month-old orphan hot dog, lurks the most mysterious of fridge-dwelling creatures.

If you hadn't moved the fridge in yourself, you would swear the last homeowners must have left it there. When did I need hoisen sauce and red curry paste? Why did I buy a gallon-sized jar of roasted red peppers and capers? And what in the name of organic chemistry is living in that Gladware?

This was the state of my refrigerator yesterday. And after twelve years of marriage, my husband and I are beginning to communicate directly about such things:

Husband: "Hey, all the kids are in preschool now and you promised I'd be able to tell. Do you think you can clean the refrigerator?"

Now, for you lovely ladies who are bristling with righteous indignation, let me tell you a little about my husband. He cooks. He cleans. He does laundry. He never 'babysits' our kids, he parents them. He has joyfully paid for my graduate school, paid for my childcare while I volunteer, and generally been the husband-of-the-year for the past decade or so. So when he gives it to me straight, I generally try to take it. And he's right. I'm the designated cleaner-outer of the fridge, cause I'm into disinfecting, and I have a strict rule about expiration dates.

So yesterday I flung open that fridge door and started cleaning out and cleaning up. I sighed deeply though. And I didn't like it. At that very moment a week before, I was gearing up to head to Atlanta for some speaking engagements. I wondered at that time if I'd really like traveling to speak, if I'd do OK, if I would love speaking to strangers as much as I love teaching at my home church. And *SIGH* it was awesome. Better than I could have expected. So enjoyable, so fun to be with other women. *SIGH* Because I felt like I was doing what God's really made me to do. *SSSSSIIIIGGGGHHHHHHH* And, strangely enough, cleaning out my refrigerator from disgusting items just doesn't feel the same. I thought of a devotional I read recently, where the author quoted Brother Lawrence, about doing everything for the glory of God, "I turn my little omelet in the pan for the glory of God." Oh, one more sigh.

It just doesn't always feel that way, does it?

So I tried to set my mind to understanding how cleaning my fridge was for the glory of God. I stretched my brain while I scrubbed old meat juice from behind the produce drawers. I thought while I wrinkled my nose at the smell of decaying broccoli. I thought some more as I pried congealed potatoes out of the bottom of a Corningware. Hmmm. Still nowhere near as enjoyable as talking to a bunch of women, seeing them nod along with me, feeling the sense of the Spirit encouraging us along in an almost palpable sense.

And then I remembered some passages from the gospels, where the disciples seem to consistently miss the point with Jesus. When they tried to send children away from him, and he corrected them, bringing the children to himself and blessing them. When they were impatient to know what Jesus' kingdom would look like, and what big roles he would give them, and who among them would be great. And Jesus replied:

"Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but so serve and to give his life as a ransom for many." Mark 10:42-44

I think I want Jesus' words to make sense immediately. I want to see the results of my service. I want to feel my influence, and see how my fridge cleaning plays out into the lives of my husband or my daughter as she helped me. I want guaranteed results. I want to know that it's worth the effort.

But that's not what Jesus promises. That's not what he requires. So much of my life is about reasoning it through, understanding. In the little book I'm reading now, Looking for God, author Nancy Ortberg says that our modern day mode of operating is to view things with a Hellenistic, or Greek, perspective. We tend to believe that insight promotes change. I know that's a big ol' lie. I can think all I want about how I should be different about X,Y, or Z, but most of the time, thinking about changing just isn't enough. So I still can't make the fridge cleaning more enjoyable, even if I think about it for a thousand years.

But a Hebrew way of thinking, the way Jesus would have lived and taught, says obedience first, understanding later.

Maybe I'm thinking about it too much. Just obey. Just choose to serve. And let God handle the rest. Do I think that changes my position on the joy of teaching and speaking? Not at all. But in the off days, in the in-between spaces, I will keep cleaning the fridge. And praying that God will help me find his glory, even in mystery meat.


Your turn:
What tasks today are difficult to find the "glory of God" in? Invite God into the task with you, and rest in the knowledge that when we serve others, we please God.

Ezer-love

If you've spent more than five minutes with me in the last year, you've heard me rave about my new favorite Hebrew word: Ezer.

I was introduced to this word last March at the Synergy conference where I sat on the edge of my seat listening to Carolyn Custis James talk about an essential truth for all women: that we are called to be image-bearers for God, and that we have a uniquely feminine identity as ezers (rhymes with razor). Ezers are called to use their influence and relational gifts to be strong warrior helpers for God. Ezers are women who fiercely defend their families, who champion the causes of the young, the poor, the oppressed. They are women who understand what it means to steward their talents for God, whether at home, at work, or in their endless spheres of influence.

Today I got to share my ezer-love message with the women at Perimeter Church in Atlanta. Yes, I was thrilled by the madonna-esqu headset mic that reminded me of my hip-hop aerobics teacher days. My ego was certainly inflated by my personal "speaker care" person, in case the crazy paparazzi were to attack me as I left the stage. Just joking, but not about my speaker-care friend...who was an absolute gem and made me feel so welcome! Women on Wednesday (WOW) at Perimeter is a ministry my sister-in-law started and it was such an honor to be with them.

What a comfort and joy to know that the issues women struggle with--independence, insecurity, balance and guilt--are not bound by geographic location or stage of life. That the only way we can be freed from these chains is through finding our uniquely feminine identity in Christ. So, to all the ezers out there--continue to glorify God with the unique way He's made you. Fix your eyes on Him so that you might be unhindered in your influence and obedient to your call!

If you're looking for more inspiration, here's the two books I shared today:

Intimate Conversations, Alicia Britt Chole
Amazon.com: Intimate Conversations: Devotions to Nurture a Woman's Soul (9780800732899): Alicia Chole: Books
and for new moms:

Mama's Got a Fake ID: Caryn Dahlstrand Rivendiera

Amazon.com: Mama's Got a Fake I.D.: How to Reveal the Real You Behind all That Mom (9781400074938): Caryn Dahlstrand Rivadeneira: Books

God's Crazy Love

This is my post from over at Hope Women, but I was so fond of this message I wanted to post it here too!

Ruth: diligent, dutiful, submissive and sweet.

Hmm. That’s the Ruth I used to know, before I spent some time with her. And it’s true that she is all those things. She is known for her diligence in work and family, her dutiful love for Naomi, and her submissive posture to Boaz, who eventually becomes her husband.

That’s sweet and all, but just not all that…inspiring. I get inspired by purpose and passion, by a pioneering spirit and a caution-ignoring heart. And Ruth is also all of THOSE things.

Ruth, Naomi and Boaz are pictures of gospel love…love that ignores the sensible and chooses the daring. Here’s some ways I think they did that for one another:

Naomi and Ruth:
When Naomi sensibly urged her daughters-in-law to not cling to her, but return home to their mothers and search for new husbands, Orpah saw the sense in that request. But Ruth chose Naomi. She chose crazy love, love that promotes the other’s best interest instead of her own. In doing so, Ruth sparked hope in Naomi. Two widows, clinging to survival, set off together, their pain behind them, a daunting future ahead.

As women, we need to look for the unlikely and unconventional friendships that God can use to change us. Whether in the position of older or younger, church-going since the cradle or spiritually seeking, women learn from one another. Oftentimes it’s in the pouring out to another that God teaches us the most. Naomi reminds us that circumstances do not prevent us from spurring one another onto God. In her darkest moment of personal faith, Naomi elicited a conversion from a pagan-following foreigner:
“But Ruth replied, "Don't urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.”

Ruth and Boaz:
When Boaz noticed Ruth’s work ethic and diligence in the fields, he approached her to offer further kindness. Boaz was a man interested in not only following God’s rules, but God’s heart.

Ruth’s winsome way was not in word, but in action. Her virtue preceded her, and her continued presence spurred Boaz on to either greater things. And greater things would be required—at the urging of this very woman!

Naomi’s streak of crazy love continued when she hatched a plan to get Ruth taken care of. Notably in the text, Naomi urges Ruth to go to Boaz so she could be provided for. Instead of choosing to enact the levirate law of marriage with Boaz, which would provide for both Naomi and Ruth, Naomi again chooses the crazy love option: worrying about Ruth’s standing, not her own. Again, she chooses the riskier option, planning for Ruth out of love, not fear. But God had other plans.

When Ruth showed up on the threshing floor, perfumed and pretty, she threw Naomi’s plan to the wind and decided to risk it all on one man’s character. Rather than proposing marriage, Ruth proposes a promise: make good on his standing as their kinsmen-redeemer. At the risk of her own protection and safety, Ruth responds to Naomi’s crazy love with a move of her own. She could have chose the sensible option: she’s young, of marriageable age, and had already proved her strength as a woman. But this Ruth, this sweet and spunky gal, won’t break a promise she made to her unlikely companion—her mother-in-law.

1 Peter 1:22 says that as believers, we should “love one another deeply, from the heart.” Another translation uses the word intense to describe this word, and the translation from the greek describes this word as “to be stretched thin.”

Naomi, Ruth, and Boaz embodied this deep, intense, stretched-thin love in the way they treated one another. With every trial, with every opportunity to make the sensible choice, they chose a crazy kind of love, the kind that promotes the other person even at great personal cost.

When Naomi cradled her grandson to her chest, the result of Ruth and Boaz’s marriage, I wonder if her mind flashed back to the many times she choose risk over safety. Love over fear. The result? An outcome even greater than she could have imagined. Naomi was restored, with an heir to claim her family’s land, a grandson to carry on the family line, and a daughter-in-law “worth more than seven sons.”

Generations later, another baby boy is born. He comes from this family line and the love of Naomi, Ruth and Boaz. He is Jesus, and he came to earth to embody this kind of crazy love that God already has for you.

Jesus is called our redeemer, but unlike Boaz, he doesn’t need your proposal, because he’s already offered it to you. He is our protector, our provider, and our healer from our former way of life. When we accept his redemption, we choose crazy, self-dying love as our response to his love for us.

This week, consider if you need to invite Jesus to be your redeemer. Ask yourself if you are equipped to love someone close to you with intense, stretch-yourself-thin kind of love. If you’ve been offering a different kind of love, one that comes from your own stash--one that is mixed with fear, pride, ambition or envy, ask Jesus to fill you with crazy love. His kind of love. And prepare for an amazing change—in you.

To listen to Nicole’s teaching from Ruth 2-4, click here.

Swine Flu and Other Horrors

I am currently typing with red hands, rubbed raw from the desanitizing process in my house. Actually, that's a total lie. My hands feel fine, because I put everyone in my family to work for operation un-swine. Even Des (the two-year-old) got into the action.

Last Saturday, the swine debacle began with my big boy (the six-almost-seven year old), waking up in the middle of the night and hurling all over the place. As if that wasn't bad enough, he was waking up in the middle of the night. In a hotel room. That we were all sharing. All five of us. Two beds.

We were up in Long Island celebrating my sweet cousin's wedding. I should have known something was up when Charlie fell asleep on the bus ride to the reception. When we shook him awake for the party, he had bags under his eyes the size of hard-shelled suitcases. There's something just wrong about a six year old with bags under their eyes. So I noticed. And ignored. Onto the party!

At the end of the evening of dancing and dining, Charlie mentioned that his stomach hurt. Silly me, I thought that was the 2 Cokes, 2 Sprites, 1 Shirley Temple and 2 pieces of wedding cake. Even when he hurled all over the bed (sorry, Hilton, please forgive me), I still assumed he just partied a little too hearty.

But when he couldn't move out of bed and spent the next two days and 500 miles home moaning, I figured something was up. And that something was the dreaded thing. The swine flu. Even saying it makes me want to shudder. By the time we got to the doctor on Monday morning, I was carrying him in. Now, I am no giant, so me carrying a six year old is a bit humorous. Six year old boys remind me of year-old puppies. All gangly arms and legs. And his legs were pitifully dangly, bumping into my shins (ankles??) as I muscled him up onto the chest-high pediatrician table. He leaned his head against my shoulder while the doctor clucked and nodded knowingly, before wrestling with him to obtain a swab for the flu test. Big boy, usually stoic, screamed like a gassy baby.

"That's the fastest positive flu results I have ever seen." says doc. "This kid is sick."

Um, yes. Thanks for stating the obvious.

So off we went, for Tamiflu, bottles of Motrin, and a thermometer for each child so that I could keep a close watch on the Unicedemic spreading through our house.

By nine that evening, all three kids and Dave had fevers. Thank God for that mommy force field and all those prayers. Somehow I stayed well enough to feel foreheads, dispense Motrin, and bribe children and husband to take the worst-tasting anti-viral medicine in the world--at one point, little Des literally gagged it up. He was trying so hard, ready to get his treat, and his stomach just rejected it. Gross.

After three days of moaning and general death-mimicking behavior, Charlie emerged. The eye bags disappeared my big boy came back.

The other two kids and Dave never really had it too bad. Maybe the Tamiflu worked, but they definitely seemed to navigate it well.

I had a few reflections from the Swine Flu Horror that were a nice intersection of spiritual realities.

1. I am so glad I was not a mom in Little House in the Prairie Days. It is hard to raise kids today, but not in the so hard-because-my-kid-is-delirious way. I mean, my kids do get delirious, but not from fevers. And that would be hard.

2. Being sick makes you value being well. Charlie said to me at one point, "uuuhhhh....how long can I go without eating?" After I assured him he would not waste away from two days of not eating, he was able to take a few sips of soup.

The way he savored the taste! He went from moaning about his stomachache to moaning about how good that soup was. "Mom, this is so good. This is the best thing I have ever tasted. Can you please put this in my lunch every day?" How grateful he was to have his taste back. It was such a reminder to me of the many opportunities God gives me to be grateful. For the warm sun on a fall day. For hot coffee on cool mornings. For baby smiles and family jokes.

3. I'm reading Nancy Orberg's book, "Looking for God," and I love what she has to say about evil and goodness in the world. The problem of pain, she says, has had people since the beginning of time asking, "Where is God?" But Ortberg asks the question, "What about the problem of goodness? What about all the magnificent ordinary and extraordinary things that are a part of each day? That question insists on the exclamation 'There is God!'"

Swine flu is evil, no doubt about it. It's a in-the-flesh reminder of the fact that we live in a fallen world, with disease and sickness and pain. But the truth of the goodness of God is just as real. Today, even as I scrub the bathroom floors and wash all traces of swine flu from my house, I choose gratitude. Because there is amazing goodness in the world, and that is a testament to our great God.